


Once more, with feeling

by Kili_M



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Epic Clique Friendships, Exes, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Light Angst, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Weddings, groupchats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-12 10:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19227082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kili_M/pseuds/Kili_M
Summary: Nick has to confront his difficult feelings when he runs into Harry at a posh countryside hotel on his way to Liam Payne’s wedding.





	Once more, with feeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shiftylinguini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiftylinguini/gifts).



> Head's up regarding the tags : The cheating doesn't actually happen, but there's a drunken attempt in the past from one of the characters.
> 
> This is for you shiftylinguini ! Thank you very much for all your amazing prompts. It was quite hard to pick one, and I was very tempted to mix a few, but in the end this one felt right. I hope you'll like it !  
> I'd like to thank my beta-reading duo Clem & T, who went through pages and pages of One Direction fanfic despite having no interest in any of the content at all just because they wanted to help and are amazing friends. I'll make sure to mention it in my speech at your wedding ;) All remaining mistakes are mine.  
> And a massive thank you goes to the Gryles Exchange Mods who were always prompt to reply to my anxious questions and are running this great challenge.
> 
> Title from THAT Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode.

“Welcome to the Pig Hotel, Mr Grimshaw ! I wish you a lovely stay with us !” says the chipper little man at the desk as he hands Nick his room keys. He looks a little bit like that one Hobbit in Lord of the Rings, the nice one. At least, from what Nick remembers of the first 10 minutes of the film. He’d fallen asleep after that and Pixie was never as obsessed with Lord of the Rings as she was with Harry Potter, so she hadn’t forced him to watch it again. Bless her heart. 

Nick wants to point out the resemblance to Ian, who’ll probably get it because he’s nerdy, or to Aimee, just because she might find it funny, but both of them have already disappeared up the stairs to their room with their bags and an enthusiastic Sunday. The only person left with Nick is Rita, but she’s on the phone laughing at something that isn’t Nick’s very funny hobbit quip, so Nick frowns. He deserves a bit more attention, especially after driving everyone for 3 hours out of the London traffic to bloody Somerset. Although that had been good fun, singing along obnoxiously to Rita’s discography for most of the way while she filmed the entire thing for her Instagram, and trying to teach Sunday how to rap Iggy’s verses in _Black Widow_ despite Ian and Aimee’s weak protests from the back seat. Nick loved a good road trip.

He pockets his keys with a smile and a thanks to the hobbit-receptionist and thumbs open his phone. It’s still a bit strange to have Pig and Stinky back on his lock screen after one year with the selfie Jim and him had taken during their trip to Malta, their smiles wide, arms around each other. The pain isn’t there anymore, but he still feels empty, a bit. It had been a mutual decision, in the end, so he doesn’t know if he gets to feel sad about it. Doesn’t seem very fair on Jim.

He types a quick text in his ‘Liam & Lily Wedding’ groupchat about having dinner in 20 minutes from now and makes his way upstairs to his room.

A quick t-shirt change and dash of moisturiser under his eyes later and Nick is back downstairs. Aimee, Ian and Sunday are already sat at a table. The dining room is mostly empty and Nick wonders if more of the wedding guests are staying there. He doubts it: him and his friends like to think the Pig Hotel is their little secret, their own hipster retreat to the countryside.

Rita joins them not long after, her bright orange dress drawing the eyes of everyone else in the room toward their table.

“I am so so hungry,” Rita groans. Aimee passes her a glass of water and one of the menus on the table.

“The onion soup is really good,” Nick informs them. He peruses the menu for a minute longer before giving his attention back to his table.

“Who else do you think will be there ?” Ian asks. Next to him, Sunday is babbling to her little farm animals toys, telling them all about her trip.

“I imagine Cheryl will be,” replies Rita. “And most of One Direction, I guess.” She turns to Nick. “Grim, do you know if Harry is coming ?” 

Nick shrugs. Harry and him haven’t seen each-other in a year now, since that day Harry had come around to meet Jim for the first time. That’s another of these things that Nick pretends doesn’t hurt anymore, Harry’s absence from his life. That one is too painful to dwell on, such a tangled up mess of feelings and lust and resentment. It hadn’t ended well. 

“Not sure if he’ll show up,” Nick replies. “I’m not even sure he has seen any of the others in years now.” 

“Oh. I guess we’ll have to see then”. 

Rita goes back to her menu, One Direction forgotten. They all order their food and carry on gossiping about the upcoming wedding, settling in the warm and homey atmosphere of the room. 

A few years ago, when One Direction were still a happy band conquering the world together, Nick wouldn’t have expected to be invited to Liam Payne’s wedding. Sure, they got along well, but they were nothing more than industry acquaintances. Later, back in the days when Liam and Cheryl were getting serious, Nick had wondered if it would happen and if that wedding could maybe top Kate and Jamie’s in Nick’s unofficial list of bonkers weddings (Aimee and Ian’s was at the top, of course). Cheryl was a friend, after all. But that one didn’t last, and Nick had stopped seeing Liam outside of work events. Only Liam Payne had started dating Lily, one of Nick’s TV producer friends. She had supervised Rita and him during their short-lived time as X-Factor judges. They’d both fallen a little bit in love with her radiant personality and sharp humour. Aimee especially had taken a shine to her after a backstage visit to Nick and they’d built a solid friendship. Lily wasn’t a close friend to any of them, per se, but they’d all kept in touch with her. Nick had only met up with her a handful of times after she started dating Liam and still wasn’t sure exactly what their story was. Receiving an invitation to their wedding had been a bit unexpected, but not unwelcome. 

The wedding was taking place in some posh venue near Bath, where Lily was from. Nick had been the one to suggest carpooling to their hotel. He was always up for spending some quality time with his friends, especially recently. The Jim-shaped hole in his life was getting easier to deal with, but he couldn’t stop himself from remembering that he’d RSVPed to the wedding with a plus one. And here he was, all alone again.

Harry was right, once again. It didn’t last. Fucker.

Like summoned by Nick’s sombre thoughts, that damned deep, delicious voice rises from behind him.

“Hiiiiiii”.

Nick freezes. Next to him, Rita is already out of her chair to hug Harry in a flurry of laughter and her booming voice. 

“Babe, oh my God ! It’s been so long !”

Nick would laugh at her effervescence if he wasn’t having a silent crisis in front of his empty plate.

Aimee and Ian stay seated, which Nick appreciates somewhere at the back of his mind. Always on his side, these two. Sunday isn’t even looking at Harry, too absorbed by building a garage for her toy tractor out of the hotel’s posh fabric napkins. Good girl. She’s truly Nick’s loyal goddaughter.

There’s more greetings, this time simply polite from Aimee and Ian, and Rita draws a chair out for Harry at the table. 

“Come on ! Join us for dinner babe ! Here, come sit by your best friend.” 

Nick still hasn’t moved from his seat. Harry and him aren’t really best friends anymore, are they ? He wishes he could know the answer. It doesn’t feel like this anymore, not after last time, not after what Harry had said.

Harry squeezes Nick’s shoulder as he passes him to take the seat Rita offered. Nick can’t be mad at her. She doesn’t know. 

Harry sits down by Nick’s left, dragging his chair closer. He puts both elbows on the table and smiles, holding his chin in his hands. 

“Hi Grim.” His voice sounds softer. This was always Harry’s M.O., creating intimacy with the simple intonation of his voice. Nick used to be really weak for it. Still is.

Harry meets Nick’s eyes and smiles at him. It’s new, this silence between them. It feels strange to see Harry again after so long but not leap into his arms and jump straight into their easy friendship. It’s all a bit too much for Nick. He smiles back, but it feels distant. Harry’s eyes on him are like a question. Clearly, they both don’t know how to be around each other anymore. _Fucking Harry_.

Nick is brought back to reality by the sharp point of Aimee’s kitten heel shoe meeting his shin. She raises her eyebrows at him and nods in the direction of Harry. Ah, yes. Social niceties. Well, Nick hasn’t seen Harry in so long, and they’re going to have dinner together tonight. Might as well make the most of it.

Nick sends Aimee a ‘shut up’ and ‘please save me’ and ‘I know you know what’s going on so please don’t make it more difficult’ look, which is really three looks in one, but they’re both masters of wordless communication when it comes to each other. Decades of friendships and drama and more than one coke or alcohol-induced snogging session does that to you.

Finally, Nick turns back to Harry, plastering on his good old TV presenter smile to ask: “Harry ! How are you ? It’s been a while …”

Dinner turns out to be a lovely, if not short, affair. Nick falls back into casually bantering with Harry. It’s easy, too easy. Almost enough to make him forget, for a moment, why their friendship had withered away. They share stories with the rest of the table that Harry starts and Nick finishes, laughing at the memories of wild times shared together. Harry asks about Eileen and baby Rose. Nick asks about Anne and Gemma. No one mentions Jim. It had been all over The Sun, when it had ended. Easy to know about, Nick guesses, even for Harry.

Harry begs out before dessert, citing jetlag and his need for sleep. He’d flown in from LA for the occasion, apparently. Nick’s eyes follow him as he bends down to kiss Sunday’s head and shakes Ian’s hand. You never forget how luminous and charming Harry Styles can be, not really. But right now, it’s almost too much for Nick to handle.

Rita pulls Harry into a tight hug before gently pushing him towards Nick. Nick gets up from his chair, this time, and smiles sheepishly at Harry. ‘Sorry this is weird,’ he wants to tell him. ‘It’s also a bit your fault,’ his inner mean streak would add.

Harry is all dimples and expensive Le Labo perfume when he wraps Nick into his arms. “Goodnight mate, see you tomorrow for the big day”, he mumbles in Nick’s neck. That’s a delicious feeling. Harry against him, his lips close to Nick’s skin. God, he used to be so addicted to it. He hugs Harry back. “Same. Have a good sleep.”

And then Harry is gone. He doesn’t look back as he leaves the room. Nick tries not to feel sad about it.

They get some of the hotel’s delicious chocolate brownie to share before ordering a wine refill for everyone. The sun has set down on the Somerset hills outside and the dining room is almost fully empty. Sunday yawns in her high chair and starts to whine until Ian picks her up.

“I’m taking this young lady to bed,” he says. Sunday’s face is mashed into his neck, eyes closed, but she’s still holding to her toy tractor for dear life. “I’ll come back when she’s settled”.

Aimee waves him off with a “you’re the best I love you !” and gulps down half of her wine. Next to Nick, Rita puts her phone down from where she was texting. “So,” she starts and leans closer to them to lower the sound of her voice, “what’s going on with Harry Styles and you, Grim ? You seemed off the whole time. And he clearly didn’t tell you he was coming for the wedding too, and staying in the same bloody hotel. I thought you guys were BFFs ?”

Nick might need more wine. Rita is a good friend, but she’s also a big mouth and always traipsing all over the world. They rarely talk about the really hard, sad stuff going on in their lives. Nick isn’t sure he wants to do this. But she’s asking, and he should be mature about it. For once. And Aimee can help, she knows the story.

He sighs and drains the rest of his wine glass. Rita is looking at him attentively. Aimee is silent, but Nick knows she’s ready to save him if he needs it. Bloody good best friend.

“So, um. You know how Harry and I, we used to like ... fool around a bit ?” Rita nods at that. It was an open secret in their group of friends, that Nick and Harry were fucking. It was a casual, on and off thing, for most of it. Nick liked getting off with a hot boybander between all of his failed relationships. It helped, most of the time, to remember that someone like Harry - young beautiful, rich and famous - could want good old Nick Grimshaw, even when his ex-boyfriends didn’t anymore. Getting off with a friend was nice too, and Nick loved Harry. Maybe a bit too much, sometimes. But that was easy to ignore when Harry was off to the other side of the world for most of the year or fucking supermodels. Not that Nick didn’t feel a bit jealous or hurt each time, but he’d accepted it as the natural order of things: him and Harry had an amazing best-friends-with-benefit-relationship and it was just for fun. End of the story.

“Well,” continues Nick, “we stopped, almost 3 years ago now. Harry was the one who called it off, actually. He said that the ‘impossibility’ was too hard for him.” Nick makes air quote at this, rolling his eyes a bit. “He didn’t like the fact that we’d never be able to have a normal relationship, apparently. Said he wasn’t able to fully commit to his girlfriends because he kept thinking about the possibility of us … of him and me. So we decided to call it off. I agreed because I was getting tired of it, really. I wanted a boyfriend for real, someone serious. Harry couldn’t be that. Too much drama, too much LA, too much at stake.” Aimee squeezes Nick’s hand over the table. He breathes in shakily. He was never good at talking about his feelings so openly, even around close friends.

“I was scared it would affect our friendship badly, but in the beginning it really didn’t. We were still in good terms and hanging out. Nothing bad. We were used to it, in a way. We’d done it before when one of us was dating someone serious. Not that any of these ever lasted, as you know.” Nick laughs, but it’s sad. Rita stays silent, listening intently.

“But then I met Jim.” Rita moves to squeeze his hand not in Aimee’s grasp. Nick loves his girls. He does feel a little bit smothered right now, but he loves attention too much to say anything. Let’s bask into it for a moment, might as well.

“When Jim and I became really serious and started talking about moving in together, Harry still hadn’t properly met him. They’d only seen each-other quickly at events, once or twice. But that was it. It made sense, at first, that I kept both of them as separate parts of my life. We’d always had this sort of … unspoken agreement, Haz & I. We didn’t do the whole partner introduction dinner because it felt too weird. Remember Michael ? Yeah ? Harry always did his best to avoid him during our what ? eight months of dating ? Well, I always appreciated it secretly. It made it all less messy.”

Nick sighs. This was never his easiest story to tell. Aimee pushes another full glass of wine to him with a sympathetic look. “Thanks Aims, but I think I’m good. Don’t want to be hungover for the big day, me.”

Nick tries to calm his mind, but it is muddled with the memories and the anger from that fateful night last Summer when he’d finally had the courage to invite Harry over to have dinner with Jim and him. He can still picture it, the boxes of Jim’s stuff accumulated in the guest room where they still had to unpack them. Pig & Stinky barking as the bell rang at the door. Wrapping Harry in a tight hug that had maybe lingered on the side of too long. Jim joining them in the hallway, all smiles and kind murmurs as he shooed the dog away. Harry had shaken his hand while looking at him straight in the eyes, a practiced parody of all the record label hotshots and business people he had been surrounded with for all his adult life. Nick knew the act. He knew Harry too well.

The food had been good. Niceties and plaisanteries had been exchanged around the table. Harry was a bit tense, Nick could tell. A bit too drunk as well. Nick had felt on edge the whole evening, like he could feel the trap coming, closing onto him the moment Harry followed him to the garden when he was taking the dogs out to plaster himself against Nick’s back in the dark. All had come tumbling down at that moment with the feeling of Harry so close, so intimate, that feeling that always made Nick lose his mind.

“I’m in love with you, Nick,” Harry had confessed against his neck, still behind Nick, his arms wrapped like a vice around Nick’s waist.

“You’re drunk,” Nick had replied, because this was the only sane explanation to him. He could still remember how cold he’d felt in just a second despite the warm Summer air around them.

“Just enough to tell the truth.” Nick couldn’t see Harry’s face, but he knew that he would find in his eyes that heady intensity he could have, sometimes. “Please, Nick. Please. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out. Please pick me, come back to me.” His voice sounded desperate now, muffled against Nick’s back.

“Fuck, Harry. You’re mad. Jim is here. He could see us.” Nick had pushed away from Harry with all the force he’d had and turned around to look at him. The memories of those eyes, shining from unshed tears in the light of London at night would haunt Nick forever, probably.

“Fuck, Haz, fuck you. Jim is my boyfriend, I love him. I chose him. You and I agreed we were done. We agreed it was impossible. You should have said it years ago, not fucking now, when I’m finally happy and in love ! I’m not your little plaything anymore. Fuck, don’t do this !”

Harry’s face had contorted in many emotions before he’d bitten back: “It’s not going to last anyway. It never does with you, you know that Nick.” He sounded cruel, his voice laced with venom and drunken belligerence. “You always come back to me.”

Harry had tried to get closer, but Nick was faster. He’d gripped Harry’s wrists before he could do anything they’d both regret. He was cold in his anger, Harry’s words cutting deep.

“Get out, Harry. Leave Jim out of whatever issue you have. Go home, sleep it off, and talk to me properly like an adult once you’re sober. I can’t deal with you right now. Go.” 

At the Pig Hotel, Nick recounts the evening to Rita. She gasps in shock at the end, shaking her head. Opposite her, Aimee has a stony face. She already knows that story, had heard it from Nick straight after.

“Did he leave ?” asks Rita. She’s engrossed in the story like she always does with some quality gossip. Nick can relate. He’s usually the same, but not when he’s the one involved in any of the drama. This sucks.

“He barely said goodbye to Jim and left like that,” Nick continues. The anger is more numb now. The confusion is still there, but it’s been a long time. He’d had many occasions to mull over his feelings and quiet his resentment towards Harry. Because Harry had been right, in the end. Jim and him hadn’t even lasted three years. Smug little bastard popstar. He’d known before Nick could tell.

“Did he ever apologise ?”

“Oh he did, yes. Always was a polite boy, Harry Styles. You know how he is … He wanted to take me out for lunch to make up for it, but I refused. So he just ended up calling me. Said how much he was sorry, how drunk and stupid and insensitive he had been. He sounded quite shaken up, as well. Was pretty sure he was going to start crying at some point.” Nick finishes the last of his wine, closing his eyes for a second.

“I accepted the apology, told him it was alright. I don’t think I really meant it, but this was Harry. I’ve never known how to be angry with him. Not properly, not to his face. A bit like kicking a puppy, innit ? I didn’t dare ask him if he’d meant it, everything he’d said that night. I didn’t want to know. I had Jim, it didn’t matter anymore. So we promised to each other we wouldn’t let it make things weird between us. That was a lie, of course. We’ve barely seen each other since, and it’s been a year. I couldn’t forget, couldn’t go back to how we were before. And now Jim’s gone as well, and everything is such a sad sad mess.”

Rita stays silent for a moment. She shuffles even closer to Nick and bends her head down to whisper. “Were you in love with him, Grim ?”

Nick thinks she’s talking about Jim, for a second. He wants to reply ‘of course’, because that’s true. He was in love with Jim for however long that lasted. Truly, really in love.

But he knows what Rita is asking. Was he ever in love with Harry ? Yet another depressing mess of tangled feelings. He couldn’t be in love with Harry. Anyone with a hint of self-preservation wouldn’t give their heart to a flighty popstar gone half of the year to charm the entire planet. He’d never allowed himself to be. But of course he had been, probably still is. Harry is so easy to love, and so hard to give love to at the same time, because down that path is only heartbreak. He’s a free spirit like that, not intentionally cruel but never tied to the ground. He has friends with benefits here and there, occasional serious girlfriends, and a trail of quiet sadness following him, all of these people who, like Nick, got in too deep too fast. 

But … “Maybe,” Nick replies. And that’s everything he can say about it. 

Both Aimee and Rita look about to say something to him, but before they can, Ian comes back to their table and raises his wine glass in a mock salute. “Sunday is down for the night ! It’s wine-mum time !” 

Nick isn’t sure how much Ian knows, because he can never really pinpoint what Aimee tells him and what she doesn’t. And, as much as he loves his little Ian, the intricacies of his sentimental life aren’t exactly the kind of topic he likes to share with him.

The conversation goes back to more generic topics, like the weather for the next day or if Liam will serenade his bride at the party. But not before long, Nick begs off to bed, moaning about his 3 hours drive for sympathy. Everyone else agrees with him that it is getting late, so they all pay for dinner before heading to their respective rooms upstairs.

Nick gets ready for bed quickly. It’s only once in complete darkness and under the covers that he allows himself a moment of introspection. He can’t pretend that knowing that Harry will be at the wedding hasn’t affected him. But he had considered the possibility before coming, and knew this: it’s only a day, one booze-filled Saturday with his friends to get through before they can go back to ignoring each-other. Before Nick can go back to resenting Harry for almost everything (making him fall in bed with him, making him fall in love with him, that Summer night a year ago). It won’t be hard.

He falls asleep slowly, his mind drifting for a second to the empty space he still leaves for Jim next to him in bed. The habit is hard to lose. An empty space that Harry used to fill, a long time ago, when things were easier.

 

***

 

Nick wakes up before his alarm. The morning light is filtering from below the curtains, the quiet of the Somerset countryside only disturbed by the songs of birds on nearby trees. The calm before the storm, imagines Nick. This wedding is going to be one big, frenzied affair. He can already picture it. But crowded and frenzied is exactly the kind of environment in which Nick thrives. He’s looking forward to it.

He contemplates his options. Getting some more sleep, or going for a fag outside while none of his friends will be awake to judge him. The second option is really tempting. Nick feels a bit bad about having smuggled in a packet of cigarettes in his case, but he hadn’t smoked a single one during his whole two and a half years of dating Jim because Jim hated it, so Nick feels entitled to a little treat.

He pushes down the covers, puts on a pair of gym shorts and a sweatshirt, and heads outside. The back garden of the hotel is blessedly empty. Nick sits down in the sun on a bench facing the endless country hills. He lights up his cigarette and takes a drag. Fuck, that feels good. He really needs to quit again.

He fishes out his phone from the pocket of his shorts and thumbs it open. There’s a few new messages and a voicemail from Alexa, but nothing too urgent. He switches to Instagram and scrolls down his feed, liking a few pictures. He’d post a story of the sun shining over the green hills, but Liam’s wedding has a strong social media ban and the paps already know too much about it. He doesn’t want anyone to trace him back to the event, not now at least. 

He smiles when he sees a DM from Diplo. It’s a series of random emojis and a story about Madonna that Nick’s not sure he fully understands. There’s also a string of DMs from that fit model who’d liked a bunch of Nick’s pictures recently and that Aimee had insisted he should contact. He says that he’ll be in London soon for a photoshoot and asks if Nick wants to meet up for drinks. Nick pauses in front of his screen. He’s not really sure he wants to. 

Nick is absorbed by trying to both make up his mind about it and compose an acceptable reply when he hears someone running in his direction from the path leading to the surrounding fields. 

“Hey Grim.” Of course it had to be Harry, all sweaty and beautiful, his shirt clinging to the shape of his torso, like something out of Nick’s most cheesy wank bank. Life is unfair.

“You’re smoking ? I thought you’d quit ?” continues Harry, panting a bit from his run. He removes his headphones and drops down next to Nick on the bench. He smells like sweat, which should be disgusting, but Nick’s heart doesn’t stop beating faster. He can remember times when Harry smelled similar, wrung out and starfished on Nick’s bed, a different kind of exertion written all over his body. 

“T’was mostly for Jim. He hated it when I smoked,” Nick replies. He doesn’t know why he feels the need to justify himself to Harry. Or he does know. Harry’s the boy he never really got over, the one he always wanted to impress by fear he’d ever leave his side. Pathetic, Grimshaw. 

“Was sorry to hear about Jim,” says Harry. His voice is soft. 

They’re not looking at each other, but Nick can feel the heat radiating off of Harry, a burning reminder of how close they’re sitting. He wants Harry again, in a sort of both desperate and distant way, aware of the impossibility of it. He can’t remember ever wanting Harry that much. Seems like an angry spat and a year apart were just what his traitorous heart needed to reignite the passion. 

Nick shrugs. “I guess you were right, in the end. It didn’t last. It never does, with me.” There’s a bitter taste in his mouth. Jim and him had had an amicable breakup. Jim felt that it wasn’t working anymore, Nick hadn’t found the strength to fight for it. He wishes, sometimes, that it had been more dramatic, that he could have a reason to hate Jim. But they broke up quietly, and it left Nick feeling empty for a while. 

Harry sounds contrite when he starts: “You know I didn’t mean …” 

“It’s alright Styles, water under the bridge.” Nick pauses. He feels tired, suddenly. Harry’s there and they’re having a real conversation for the first time in a year. It’s exhausting, feeling so much, so early in the morning. It’s exhausting to exist next to Harry Styles, popstar extraordinaire and Nick’s former best-friend-with-great-sexy-benefits.

“Maybe I should have said yes to you, that evening,” Nick continues. He can’t stop himself now. It’s a conversation he’s had multiple times in his head with an imaginary Harry. “Maybe I should have taken your offer. Might have saved me from more heartbreak.”

Harry suddenly gets up from the bench and comes to face Nick. His face is stony, his eyes hard. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Nick,” he says between his teeth. He looks at Nick one last time, his gaze getting under his skin and making him feel cold to the bone. Then Harry turns around curtly and makes his way inside the hotel, walking fast. _Not again_ , thinks Nick. He can’t let Harry go again. They can’t keep fighting like that.

Nick doesn’t take time to stop and think. He just stubs his cigarette and drops it into a flower pot, feeling a bit bad about it but more preoccupied by running after Harry. He corners him upstairs, in the corridor where both their rooms seem to be.

“Wait !” says, Nick, grabbing Harry’s arm. He tries to whisper, mindful for a second of the other guests still asleep in the surrounding rooms. He can feel himself panicking, doesn’t really know what to say. He tries to remember the imaginary versions of this conversation that he’d made up in his head. What would Harry like to hear ? A peace offering, maybe ?  

“I’m sorry it was never possible, you and I. But we were so good as friends. I miss it.” Nick means it. The moment the words tumble out of his mouth, it feels right. He’d rather have Harry back as his friend again than not have him at all.

Harry looks sad again when he replies: “We were never just friends, you know that. When did we start sleeping together ? Not long after my birthday right ? It was never just friends, between us. Maybe we just don’t know how to be friends without benefits.”

“That’s not true and you know it ! We were friends when I was with Nicco, when you were with Taylor !” Nick defends. He lets go of Harry’s arm.

“They never compared, on the long run, didn’t they ?” says Harry. He looks like he wants to add something else, but he’s stopped by the sight of Rita coming down the corridor in a ridiculous sparkly purple dressing gown. Nick needs to remember to ask if he can borrow it at some point. That’ll make a delightful Instagram post.

Rita comes up to them with a wide smile and wraps them both into a hug with a “Hello boys” delivered in her most sultry voice. She wiggles her eyebrows in Nick’s direction. “Had some fun this morning ? Without me ?” She laughs, and Nick is grateful that she’s here to diffuse the tension, but also annoyed that this means his time alone with Harry is over. 

“We’re not having a threesome with you babe,” he says with fond exasperation.

Rita cackles loudly. “Well, I wasn’t coming to get you for that, but if you’re giving me ideas ... “ She trails off with another smile, before squeezing Nick’s shoulder. “I was coming to get you for breakfast, Grim. Harry, you can join us if you want, of course ! We have to be at the venue in three hours and I might need more time than that to get ready, so we better get started soon”.

“Thanks for the invite,’’ replies Harry, “but I think I’ll just see you all at the venue later’’. His face is unreadable. Nick looks at his retreating back, feeling empty. It looks like Harry’s walking out of his life again. 

They get breakfast downstairs, but Nick doesn’t mention Harry. Thankfully, Rita doesn’t either. He really doesn’t want to spend the day with a concerned Aimee checking on the state of his poor heart every minute.

 

***

 

The ceremony is beautiful. It runs a bit late, and there is so many guests gathered in the garden of the posh 18th Century castle hosting the festivities that it feels a bit messy. Nick finds his seat surprisingly easily. He catches a brief glimpse of Harry walking through the crowd, but their seats are far apart.

Nick lets Sunday seat on his lap for most of the ceremony and hauls her up on his shoulders when Liam and Lily exchange their vows to let her see everything from above the crowd. Both the groom and the bride are crying when they say ‘I do’, and it tugs on Nick’s heartstrings. This is sweet. He can see Cheryl with Bear on the first row of chairs. He needs to go say hi later, have a chat. He hasn’t seen her in quite some time.

Liam and Lily kiss when the officiant invites them to and the wedding band starts playing what suspiciously sounds like a techno cover of the Wedding March. Nick raises and eyebrow. Well, this is going to be an interesting day.

He passes Sunday back to her parents. Time to grab a well-earned drink and explore the park and the castle. He offers his arm to Rita, who accepts it graciously, and they make their way to the buffet, chatting on their way with various industry people they know. They stay together to congratulate the happy couple and even get to greet a tacky-looking Simon Cowell with whom they exchange platitudes before the start of the lunch.

Lunch is served in the massive dining hall of the venue, on carefully decorated round tables. Nick peers at the seating chart displayed by the door. He’s at a table on the far side of the room with Aimee and Ian, no surprise there. Rita is sat elsewhere, but not far from them. There’s a few other names at their table that he doesn’t recognise and, of course, because fate seems to be playing with him these days, Harry. He looks at the other tables. Apparently, whoever did the seating plans decides to split One Direction. _It’s probably for the best,_ thinks Nick, given how Harry had mostly gone cold turkey on the rest of them in the recent years. From what Nick knows, it’s not all rainbows and sunshine between the four of them, not anymore. Zayn isn’t there, of course. He can see that Niall and Louis are seated at the same table, though.

Aimee makes a face at Nick when Harry comes to join them at their table. Nick ignores her, smiling apologetically at Harry instead where he comes to seat at Nick’s left. He wants to apologise for their morning argument, but it clearly isn’t the time or place.

“I expected they’d seat you with you fellow teenage sex-symbols,” Aimee tells Harry. “You don’t mind it ?” She sounds defensive, and Nick is tempted to kick her under the table for it. He doesn’t need Aimee’s protection, even if he appreciates the dedication.

“No. But frankly, I’m glad we won’t have to pretend to be the best of friends all day long,” replies Harry. His voice is distant. Nick remembers Harry telling him how hard things had been in the band after he’d suggested a break. He’s tempted to squeeze Harry’s hand in support, like he used to back in the golden days of their friendship. But instead, he awkwardly pats Harry’s shoulder, trying to convey thousands of feelings in a simple touch. An apology, a welcome. A ‘nice to see you again’. Harry turns to look at him and Nick freezes with his hand still on his shoulder. Harry’s eyes are intense again, and Nick feels petrified under his gaze.

Lunch carries on well into the afternoon, surprisingly pleasant. Once wine starts flowing, the conversation at their table does too. They’re all well on their way to drunk when dessert arrives, and by then Harry and Nick have been entertaining their audience with fabulous tales of their old nights out, sharing bits of stories from both their point of views. Even Aimee seems to have forgotten that she’s meant to dislike Harry now, sharing her own juicy anecdotes.

It’s strange, being back like this with Harry. At a table, happy and smiling, their words flowing together naturally. Nick had really missed this. It feels like an illusion, one last day of pretending they can be friends forever before never seeing each other again. But when everyone laughs and Harry’s thigh feels hot pressed against Nick’s under the table, it’s easy to feel drunk on Harry again, to bathe in the nostalgia of their better days as friends.

They destroy a selection of colourful patisseries, chatting with the other guests at their table. There’s a fun girl named Billie sat not far from Nick who’s apparently part of Liam’s glam squad. Nick likes her very much, until she laughs loudly at one of Harry’s stories about Nick and says “Gosh, I remember, I always wondered if there was anything between you two. Silly me !” She clearly meant it as a joke, but Nick sobers up suddenly. The speculation around their relationship was tiring and had played a part in breaking them up for good. He doesn’t know what to reply to that. Under the table, he feels Harry’s hand gripping his thigh. Harry must be drunker than he should be, because he replies: “that would be hot right ?” in a slow voice, looking intensely at Billie.

“Haz !” Nick chastises him. He tries to make his voice sound amused to hide the sudden terror that grips him. He doesn’t want to have to lie about this whole thing again, has done it too often in his life already. 

Aimee has disappeared God knows where with her husband and daughter, and Rita is busy making moves on the newly-opened dancefloor. There’s no one to come to his help this time.

“Sorry, it’s a sensitive topic,” laughs Harry, flashing his perfect blinding popstar smile at Billie. His hand is still on Nick’s thigh, rubbing absentmindedly at it in little soothing motions. Nick is at a loss for words. He’s drunk, the wedding band is playing a romantic Sam Smith song and this is all a bit too much for him.

“No, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have said anything !” Billie apologises. “God, I’m so drunk ! Sorry again ! I should really go to the loo,” she continues, putting her wine glass down on the table with a bit too much force before she disappears, waving back at them. Everyone else that was sat at their table is off either dancing or chatting around the room. There’s only Nick and Harry left.

Harry turns to Nick. He grips Nick’s thigh harder, sending electricity in his whole body. “Nick. Do you want to dance ?” His eyes are shiny with a combination of alcohol and that special brand of Harry eager puppy eyes, the ones he always used on Nick when he wanted something. Good thing Nick’s learned to resist them with time.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Haz. We’re both drunk. And you know we’re hopeless dancers. It’ll be bad, so so bad. Let’s not do something we’ll regret later.”

At his words, Harry leans further into Nick’s space. He’s warm and smells divine. Nick might be too inebriated to deal with all of … _this_ right now. Harry’s lips brush Nick’s ear as he whispers. “I’ve never regretted anything we’ve ever done together.”

It’s another classic Harry move, one Nick has been on the receiving hand of enough times to know better. But it doesn’t stop his whole body from feeling afflame, his breath from coming short. And because he’s still the same old Nick, a bit in love with Harry but weary of his bruised heart, he does the best thing he can think of. “I can’t deal with you right now,” he stutters and pushes away from the table, fleeing to the dancefloor to spin Rita around to the music and drown himself in the beat of Britney’s _Toxic_. 

Nick dances with everyone he knows, embracing the buzz of the alcohol and the press of people around him, losing himself in it. Aimee and Ian join him later, having left Sunday with the babysitter available at the venue for all the families with kids. They pile on the dancefloor and dance badly to all the tunes, jumping up and cheering on the DJ that came in at some point to replace the wedding band.

Nick doesn’t know what time it is, early or late, when Harry joins them. Nick wants to run again, but his body feels loose in the music and he basks in the feeling of Harry against him, of how good it is to have his full attention directed on him again. It’s intoxicating in a way he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

At some point, the music changes to Rihanna’s _Wild Thoughts_. Nick can hear Aimee and Ian whoop at the choice. He’s vaguely aware that they’re dancing together next to him, but there’s Harry’s hands on his waist, anonymous in friendly crowd, and Nick wants to throw caution to the wind. He latches onto Harry, wrapping his arms around his waist as they sway out of rhythm. Just one night, Nick tells himself. One last night, like old times.

“Fuck, Nick, I missed this. Missed you.” It sounds like a confession, like Nick wasn’t meant to hear it at all. Harry is pliant against him and his hoarse voice does ungodly things to Nick’s insides. The bodies around them press them closer together until they stop moving, just looking into each other’s eyes. It’s electric.

So when Harry murmurs into his ear “let’s go back to the hotel,” Nick’s defenses are already down. He could still say no, put an end to it. But he’s overwhelmed with want. He doesn’t reply, instead grabbing Harry’s waist tighter and leading him outside of the venue without another word.

They stumble in the garden of the castle, clutching at each other. Nick is surprised to see the sky outside is dark. How much time had they spent inside ? By his side, Harry is laughing. He wraps an arm around Nick’s neck and draws him in, mashing their lips together. It’s clumsy, bad, and barely a kiss. But it still feels amazing. 

Nick smiles against his mouth. “Idiot,” he says fondly. Then, he carefully grips Harry’s face between his hands and goes in for a real kiss, slow and languorous, opening Harry’s lips for his tongue. 

They kiss and kiss until they can’t anymore. Harry is breathless when he separates from Nick. “I’ll call a car,” he slurs, his hands still pressed against Nick’s chest. “You’ve drank too much to drive back and can’t wait another four years to have you again.”

Nick nods, licking at his lips to chase the feeling of Harry’s kiss. They were always so good at this, the two of them together. Fuck, it’s so intense. He can’t remember it ever being so … so much between Harry and him. Maybe that’s what time does to you. It makes everything more real. Makes you feel things stronger.

Harry whips out his phone. He keeps and hand on Nick’s chest while he calls his car service, drawing random patterns against his heart. Nick is buzzing from it.

“He’ll be here in 20 minutes”, Harry says finally, pocketing back his phone.

“We should maybe go back inside, say goodbye ...” Nick can’t really be bothered to do so, but it feels like the polite thing to do. Harry doesn’t seem to share his opinion because he cuts him off with a kiss instead.

They make out like teenagers until the car arrives, re-discovering quirks and kinks between quiet moans. They barely separate once seated at the back of their taxi. Nick feels too old to snog at the back of a car but he still opens his arms for Harry to fall in between them, hugging him tightly against his chest in an awkward position. They share a private smile and stay silent, not wanting to break the spell that seems to have fallen on their evening and brought them back in time.

Just before their car pulls up to the Pig Hotel, Nick messages his ‘Liam & Lily Wedding’ groupchat to tell them he’s gone back to the hotel without them. Once the text is sent, he puts his phone away. He doesn’t plan on having to look at it again for quite some time. 

Harry’s hand is hot in Nick’s, guiding him upstairs in the quiet hotel. Nick’s entire body is buzzing with anticipation. It feels right, to have Harry again. Have him forever, maybe. Maybe they could start again and never stop. God. It’s all so much.

They almost run up the corridor to Nick’s room, but Harry’s foot catches on the plush carpet on the floor and he trips forward with a ‘oof’. Nick stops his fall just in time, pulling Harry toward him with their intertwined hands. Their bodies collide and they giggle, drunk on each other. Harry smiles at him, broad and bright.

“I really - really like you, Nicholas Grimshaw.” He pats Nick’s chest affectionately and bumps their noses together. “I’ve missed kissing you,” he whispers, his face suddenly much closer to Nick’s.

 _This is stupid_ , thinks Nick. They’re drunk and snogging in the darkened hallway of a hotel where anyone could stumble upon them, making half-hearted efforts at staying quiet. But this is amazing too, this way Harry has to wake up Nick’s entire body with the simplest of touches. The way their mouths fit together, move together.

Nick detaches himself from Harry to drag him down the last meters of corridor to his room. He grabs his keys from the pocket of his suit jacket and opens the door, pushing them both inside. Before he can even close the door, Harry has toed his shoes off and crawled on the bed, turning to lie on his back, propping himself up on his elbows. He’s a beautiful invitation, spread out on the white duvet, clad in a ridiculous printed burgundy suit. His eyes burn into Nick’s chest as Nick takes tentative steps towards the bed. Fuck, could he really have spent the rest of his life without seeing this again, having this again ? Will he be able to, once they’re done, if Harry doesn’t want him again ? He’d rather not think about it now. So Nick reverts to the best way he knows to shut his bloody brain up: getting out of his shoes, crawling on top of Harry on the bed, covering his body with his own and kissing him silly.

They don’t get out of their suits. They barely move at all, at first. They simply press against each other, Harry dipping into the mattress under Nick. Just kissing, slow and languorous. Nick explores Harry’s lips again. He re-discovers how well they feel against his. Then, they stop to breathe, exchange a look, and meet in the middle again. It’s more passionate, this time. Harry grips Nick’s hair tightly. He draws him closer, bites at his lips, tangle their tongues. There’s no mistaking the feeling of his cock hardening under Nick’s hips, either. It’s heady, being able to make Harry Styles moan with lust. Nick loves it.

After a moment of trying to rut up against Nick, Harry seems tired of waiting for him to pick up the pace. So he moves his hands from Nick’s hair to his hips and uses them to push Nick away from him, holding him down with his back against the mattress instead and moving to straddle his waist. “Much better,” Harry says with a wicked smile. Nick feels like a desperate, stupid mass of arousal and desire. Every single point where his body meets Harry is on fire, and they haven’t even taken their clothes off yet. He’s well and truly gone for him, it’s almost pathetic.

Harry dips down to kiss Nick again quickly. Then, he presses both hands against Nick’s chest. “Don’t move”. His voice is low. He bends down, this time kissing Nick’s neck, then his collarbone, going lower and lower with each press of his lips. Nick feels too hot and sweaty in his fancy suit but doesn’t want to move to take it off. All he wants to do is concentrate on the feeling of Harry’s hands unbuttoning his shirt slowly and raking his fingers through Nick’s chest. 

“I always loved this,” Harry murmurs. He noses at Nick’s exposed chest before gently biting on one of his nipples.

Oh, fuck. “What ?” Nick tries to make it a question but it just comes out as a pleading whine. Harry remembers all his old tricks, then. God, Nick is going to die. His brain is already in full-on sex mush mode and they haven’t even touched dicks yet. 

Harry takes his mouth off Nick’s nipple to look at him. “Your hairy chest,” he replies with a grin. “So manly.”

Nick laughs, carding a hand through Harry’s hair, using his other to grab at Harry’s waist. “Oh, fuck off Mister Manscaping.”

“Heyyyy, I don’t manscape ! I just can’t seem to grow any chest hair, sadly so”. Harry’s smile above him is so beautiful and free. Nick wants to drink it from his lips. He draws Harry’s head towards him to meet him in the middle. He didn’t evaluate the angle properly, so they mostly end up knocking chins, but they laugh at it together.

“I really, really missed this, Nick,” Harry says earnestly. He peppers quick kisses across Nick’s face while Nick’s heart beats even quicker. He doesn’t know what to reply, so he just grabs at Harry’s arse and pushes their hips together. They’re both hard under their trousers. They’ve both been eating practically all day long and are nicely tipsy, so anything too involved right now is out of question, but Nick can’t wait to get his mouth back on Harry’s dick. He must say it out loud because Harry kisses him hard and crawls down Nick’s body, stopping just above his crotch.

“Me first.” Nick is perfectly fine with that.

Harry gets on his elbows, caging Nick’s hips. Nick is straining his neck to look at him from where he’s laid down on the bed. He wants to grab another pillow to prop himself up a bit, drink in the sight of Harry giving him head, which was always one of his favourite images. But Harry’s hand presses down hard against the bulge in Nick’s trousers and all his thoughts evaporate. He lets his head fall down against the mattress and closes his eyes. 

Harry plays with him through his trousers for a while, the little tease. He cups Nick’s bulge, runs his fingers along it and even bows down to kiss it lightly. Nick is getting desperate. ‘’You know you can take it out, right ?’’ 

‘’Can I ?’’ Harry asks, all pretend innocence. 

‘’God, yes, please Harry. Please.’’

‘’If you ask so politely …’’ and Harry opens Nick’s fly, pushing down his trousers and boxers in one practiced move. He licks at the tip of Nick’s cock, hums around it. Then, he goes down on it slowly, wrapping a hand around the base of it and using his other one to press Nick’s hips down against the bed.

Nick needs to look at him, he needs to. So he grips Harry by his hair, maybe a bit too harshly, and takes his mouth off of him just long enough to grab two pillows behind his head and prop himself up a bit. Now he can see Harry properly, can see his eyes shine with lust as he mouths at Nick’s cock again all while pushing his head back against Nick’s palm where it’s still wrapped around his curls. Nick knows what this means. Who could ever forget how much Harry likes having his hair pulled a bit ? Definitely not Nick. 

“Here you go babe, sorry for the wait,” Nick sighs. And Harry swallows him down again.

They take their time. Harry sucks Nick slowly, draws it out. He moans around him, let him fuck his mouth a bit but lets go of him every time Nick gets closer to his orgasm. They work in sync. Words aren’t necessary. They know how to read each-others’ bodies, the tell-tale signs of pleasure. They used to do it like this on Sunday mornings, a long time ago. They’d wake up late in the same bed and exchange slow blowjobs under the covers, drawing it out for ages until they were both desperate to come.

When Nick finally comes, it feels delicious. His whole body is buzzing. Harry swallows most of it and wanks him off to finish before moving up to give Nick a devouring kiss. He tastes like cake, wine and come. Nick loves it.

They finally get naked, after, giggling like idiots when Harry’s cock bounces free from his boxers. They take a minute to gently rest their suits on the desk chair before Nick lays Harry out on the bed and reciprocates, giving him an equally slow blowjob that has Harry shivering against the covers before he comes. Nick licks him clean. He mouths at Harry’s stomach, traces tattoos with the tips of his fingers. He keeps a hand on Harry’s spent dick, pressing gently against it to make Harry whimper until it gets too much and Harry drags him by his armpits to kiss him again and wrap all of his beautiful limbs around him.

They doze off for a bit on top of the covers, bodies intertwined, lips pressed close in a forgotten kiss. It doesn’t last long. The room gets a bit cold now that they’re naked and not exchanging orgasms. So Nick caresses Harry’s sides to wake him up, wraps him in another kiss. He feels soft all over. It’s like the world outside doesn’t exist, like Nick gets to have Harry for himself forever in the secret bubble of his room. He gets them both under the covers as Harry mumbles against his Neck, his face hidden from Nick. 

Everything Nick felt, the fear, the anger, the guilt, all seem to have settled in his mind. It’s like Harry’s body against his is a talisman chasing away his worries. Maybe it’s because he feels so settled, suddenly, that he finds the courage in himself to talk. There’s a thousand conversations overdue between the two of them, lying in bed between them like a silent presence. Nick wants them gone so he can take Harry fully and never let him go. He burns with it.

“Harry,” Nicks says. He’s unsure what he wants to say exactly, so he starts with the essential, the obvious. “I’m in love with you.” 

That fully wakes Harry up. He stares at Nick with wary eyes where they lie face to face under the covers.

“I wish I’d said it sooner. But I didn’t know, back then, didn’t realise. I’m sorry about everything, about Jim, about not talking to you for a year. I’m so sorry. But I love you, and I want you back in my life, however you’ll have me.” Nick’s chest feels wide, like he took a long breath of fresh air. 

Harry stays silent. He keeps looking at Nick. 

Dread washes over Nick, making his heart beat louder again. He felt so sure a second ago, but Harry’s silence makes him doubt his bold declaration. 

“Harry. Please say something, anything …” 

“Fuck, Grim. I fucking hate you,” blurts out Harry. He pushes against the bed to rest above Nick. Their eyes lock. “Couldn’t you have said that years ago ? Save us the trouble ?” 

“I didn’t know, did I ? Maybe I wasn’t ready, either,” defends Nick. He wants to touch Harry, to soothe the frown between his eyes, but he doesn’t know if he’s allowed anymore. It feels like whiplash, going to mutual orgasms minutes ago to fighting with Harry again. They never used to be like this. He wonders if they can ever go back to how things used to be when they slept together but pretended it didn’t count. He’s not sure he wants to. 

“I was an absolute fucking cunt to you last time. It’s true, I was horrible. Fuck, I asked you to leave your boyfriend for me, Grim. We didn’t talk for a year. But now you’re in love with me too ? I’m just … it’s a lot to take in.” 

“Too much ?” asks Nick, voice hesitant. 

“God, I don’t know. You were always too much for me. If only you knew. Too much for my heart to handle.” Harry buries his face against Nick’s chest like he wants to hide from him. 

“Tell me. Harry, tell me. I want to know.” 

“Remember that time years ago when we got drunk and passed out on Gellz couch and you held me the whole night long ? That’s when I first felt it. Like my chest was cut open, a bit.”

Nick’s breath catch at Harry’s words. That was years ago, when Harry was just nineteen. All this time … all this time Harry had been in love with him ?

“It was too hard to say it. I didn’t want to hold you back, or hold myself back. I wanted to see the world, go on tour. Hell, it sounds horrible, but I also wanted to fuck more people. But I was always in love with you while I did it, all along. It was like … like this thing you just know, you know ? Like you know the sun comes back after the storm, you don’t always think about it but when the rain comes you have the certitude the sun will follow ? It was natural like that for me. I would meet someone new and fall for them, but I’d always remember that I was in love with you, would probably always be and it was one of these things in life I just couldn’t change.” 

Harry is rambling now, passing a hand in his hair repeatedly like he can grab his thoughts through his brain and arrange them better. Under him, Nick is at a loss for words.

“But when you moved in with Jim, fuck, I panicked,” Harry continues. “It was selfish of me to expect you’d never have something that serious. It made being in love with you from afar much easier, thinking you’d always be sort of mine. But I saw you slipping away, so I got drunk and behaved like a little shit. You were right to be angry with me.” 

Nick raises his hands to cup Harry’s face above him. He searches his eyes and finds in them the same messy tenderness that he feels too. “And now, Haz. What happens now ? What do we do ?” 

“Well …” Harry takes a long breath. “You could start by kissing me”.

“I’m going to kiss you again, don’t worry. But I want to know what you want next, what happens to us after tonight. Because I don’t know for you, but I can’t go another year without you in my life. It wasn’t great.”

Harry bites his lips. He looks down at Nick, his gaze surprisingly shy. “I could take you out on a date, maybe ? When we’re back in London.”

“I’d love that, but what happens after ? Will you move back to London for me ? What happens to you once they get pictures of us out together again ?” 

“Well, I’ve always planned on coming out one day. And I’d love to do it by holding your hand for the whole world to see.”

Harry always had this intensity in him that made Nick weak to the knees. So he guides Harry down, meets him in a kiss. He makes it slow, savours every inch of Harry’s mouth, collects their moans on the tip of his tongue. It’s overwhelming, this future laid out in front of them. It’s scary, and big, and everything Nick has ever secretly wanted, late at night years ago when Harry would fall asleep next to him and he’d stay up just a little bit longer to listen to him breathe in the dark.

When they separate from their kiss, they’re both smiling. Harry flops back down on the bed next to Nick, pillowing his head on Nick’s chest. “Let’s see how we go, right ? Let’s try it out for real this time, date properly. Maybe it’ll be too much, maybe we’ll fuck it up. But I think we deserve a chance. Don’t you think ?”

Nick has nothing to add to that, so he just hums in agreement. He moves a bit deeper under the covers and rests his hand on top of Harry’s heart. The hills outside are silent and dark. And soon enough, they both fall asleep.

 

***

 

Nick wakes up to the feel of Harry’s arse shifting against his dick. They’d both fallen asleep naked and apparently moved into a sort of spooning position overnight because Harry now has his back pressed against Nick’s front. Nick hasn’t woken up like this since 2016, a time when he was still wearing skinny jeans and none of his friends were responsible adults with kids. It brings back delicious memories, enough to make his cock fatten up under the covers.

“Harry ?” he groans out. God, his voice sounds terrible. The combination of food, dancing, alcohol and enthusiastic mutual blowjowbs is always deadly. At least he doesn’t feel too hungover, just a bit fuzzy around the edges.

He gets another groan as an answer before Harry stretches a hand out behind himself to grab blindly at Nick’s hip and push his semi flush against Harry’s arse. “Mmm … I think I’m ready for a fuck now,” mumbles Harry. His face is hidden, but Nick knows he’s probably still half asleep. Harry always loved a morning shag. 

“Is this what you want Haz ? Want me to wake you up fully, fuck you good ?”

“Yeah, fuck, yeah,” Harry wimpers against his pillow. Nick wants to consume him.

“Have we even got any lube ? Condoms ?” Nick for sure didn’t bring any. Reconciling with his sort-of-ex wasn’t exactly part of his plans for the weekend. Especially not at Liam bloody Payne’s wedding. 

“Saw some in the bathroom cabinet when I was having a wee. From the hotel.” Harry sounds breathless already. He’s pushing back against Nick’s dick, letting it catch between his cheeks.

“Oooh, fancy hotel.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it, Grim. You come here all the time.” 

“Mm, true. Love it here.” Nick would love to elaborate more on his appreciation of the Pig Hotel, but he’s getting distracted by biting a mark on Harry’s shoulder just to feel him shudder against him. He gets a hand over Harry’s hip to cup his cock. He’s hard too. Nick hums his approval and starts slowly wanking him. It’s dry and probably not the most pleasurable of sensations, but Harry whimpers anyway.

“Nick, wait. Gotta …” Harry moans. “Let me get the lube. Really want you to fuck me. ‘Sbeen so long.”

Nick takes his hand off Harry’s cock and pats him on the hip. “Go then. Be quick.”

Harry seems suddenly more awake. He rolls over to grab Nick’s face and give him a quick, dirty kiss before he gets out of bed and into the bathroom. Nick ogles his retreating arse, taking a minute to appreciate his chance. _This could be mine_ , he thinks. _He could be mine_.

Harry comes back quickly, jumping on the bed and straddling Nick’s hips. His hard cock bounces around with his hasty movements, which should be hilarious. But Nick’s too fond of the man to laugh, finds a strange tenderness in the moment, even as Harry nearly misses his face when tossing him the little bottle of lube. 

“You remember how I like it ?”

“How could I ever forget, babe ? All these pretty sounds you made with my fingers in you, how much you loved them.”

“Still love your hands,” Harry replies. Then lower, like it’s still a secret: “Love you, also.”

Nick’s whole body warms up with it. It still doesn’t feel real, not yet. But he knows that one day he’ll be able to believe that Harry loves him.

“Love you too Haz,” he whispers back. They both break into giddy smiles that melt into a kiss.

They snog for a bit before Harry rearranges himself with his back on the mattress, legs open and knees apart in an obvious invitation. Nick takes his time fingering him open. He uses a lot of lube, maybe too much, but Harry seems grateful for it. They kiss a lot, Nick twisting his fingers inside Harry at the same time just to hear him sob with want.

And finally, when the sun starts to creep in a sliver of light from under the curtains of his room, Nick rolls on a condom and slowly presses into Harry. They’re face to face, Harry’s heels pressing in the small of Nick’s back. Nick gives him some time to adjust before he picks up the pace, fucking into him with abandon.

When Harry comes in the hand Nick has wrapped around his cock, he whimpers Nick’s name. Nick follows him soon after, spilling in the condom and letting his head fall on Harry’s sternum, barely able to keep himself up. He can hear Harry’s heart beat rapidly. I did this, Nick’s think. I can make him come, I can make him love me, I can keep him forever. 

He takes a few breaths to calm down, sits back on his knees and haphazardly gets rid of the condom. Harry has his eyes closed but his hand is in Nick’s. They stay like this in bed until Aimee calls Nick to remind him that they need to pack and leave soon, hands intertwined, appreciating the easy silence between them. 

Later, after a shower and with his suitcase closed and ready to go, Nick takes a cab to the wedding venue to retrieve his car left there the night before. Harry offers to come along so they can share some more time together before returning to London. It’s sweet. They agree on a day for their first date. They smile a lot, and their hands keep touching. Nick had missed being in love. On the drive back to the hotel, they put on Radio 1 and sing along to all the songs. Harry’s very good, of course, but nothing can ever stop Nick from doing his catastrophic rendition of any Rihanna song, so they don’t end up sounding that great. Neither of them cares.

They kiss a final time in the car once Nick parks in front of the hotel. It’s quick and quite chaste, but it feels like a promise. Hopefully there’ll be plenty more of these to come.

Once Harry has gone to his own car, Nick joins his roadtrip crew by the front door. He can tell they know something is up because Aimee has her classic ‘I will roast you about this later and you better tell me everything’ face while Rita keeps wiggling her eyebrows at him. 

They load the car and buckle a sleepy Sunday in her child seat before taking off. They’re barely out of the town before the little girl is asleep. Nick smiles. It’s gossip time now. “Guess what happened yesterday,” he says excitedly.

“Are you sure about it, this time ?” asks Aimee. She probably already knows. She’s a bit magic like that, his Aimee.

“Yes,” replies Nick. He’s made his peace with the uncertainty. He knows what he wants, knows Harry wants it too. It’s enough for him now.

At the back of the car, Rita coos while Ian makes a sound that Nick guesses is a grunt of agreement. It’s going to be a fun drive back to London.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading !
> 
> A note on Liam's bride : I first started writing this with Liam & Cheryl getting back together and getting married because it made sense that Nick would be invited to that wedding. Halfway through, I decided to change because it didn't feel right anymore. I briefly considered having Naomi C as the bride but I wasn't ready to write a larger than life character like her. In the end I settled for an OFC, feeling that it didn't matter that much since her and Liam mostly exist in the background of the story.


End file.
